


Molten

by larkscape



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kink Exploration, Kinktober 2019, Wax Play, little bit of alien biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 00:44:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larkscape/pseuds/larkscape
Summary: “You’re telling me Altea didn’t have candles?” Lance asks, baffled. Here he was thinking the Alteans were crazy-advanced, and they don’t even have wax play because they never bothered to inventcandles.Jeez, where were their priorities?Lance introduces Allura to something new.





	Molten

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for day 1 of kinktober, but who cares about calendars and deadlines anyway, right? I have been wanting to write wax play for these two since _last_ kinktober.
> 
> (also I’m determined to go through my inbox this weekend, sorry if you get spammed with replies to months-old comments, thank you and I love you all ♥)

“You’re telling me Altea didn’t have candles?” Lance asks, baffled. Here he was thinking the Alteans were crazy-advanced, and they don’t even have wax play because they never bothered to invent  _ candles. _ Jeez, where were their priorities?

“Burning animal fat for light sounds a bit primitive, if you’ll forgive my saying so,” Allura replies, nestling back in his embrace. “I know you’re sensitive about such things.”

“A guy gets upset about you calling his ears hideous  _ one time _ and suddenly he's _ sensitive—" _

“But that all sounds rather messy, don’t you think?” Allura says, ignoring his dramatics. “We used woven snaggrass torches in our pre-technological era.”

Lance shrugs, letting it go. “Of course you did. The traditional human way is probably very messy, yeah, but I don’t think anyone’s used actual tallow in ages. Hell, most candles are electric these days, but the real ones are usually soy wax — from soybeans, they’re a type of vegetable—”

“Like snaggrass? Do these ‘soybeans’ have poisonous thorns, too?”

“Yes? I mean,  _ no, _ no thorns, no poison, soybeans are  _ food. _ And the candles aren’t made from the actual vegetable, it’s refined, and it's not always soy anyway, they still use paraffin sometimes, and— but, but that’s not the point. You’re getting me off track. I’m trying to— wax play! Wax play is a whole  _ thing.”  _ She's laughing him. He can feel it even if he can't see her face. And yeah, okay, that's fair, but he really does want to get back on topic. “There’s nothing you Alteans like to melt and use for sexy purposes?”

Allura considers for a moment, sobering a bit, then shakes her head. “Not that I’ve ever heard of. Maybe Qidrian beetle syrup? I know some warm it for use in the bedroom, but that doesn't sound quite like what you're describing.” She tips her head back to look at him, then presses a kiss to the edge of his jaw, and her voice dips into its most suggestive register as she adds, “I'm curious about your wax. Will you show me?”

“Allura,” Lance says, hugging her tighter. “Princess. Light of my life, candle of my heart— you are in for a  _ treat.” _

“We'll start with your arm, okay?” Lance says two days later, leaning over Allura with a freshly-lit votive candle — soy, as promised. It was a pain in the ass to find, but find it he did; he'd actually lucked into a whole pack of them.

Allura's stretched out on his bed, stripped down to her skin, her hair a beautiful cascade over his pillow as she gives him a smile just a touch too shy and pleased to be sultry. Lance, sitting next to her hip, is still in his boxers because, in theory, he's leading this expedition and doesn't need the distraction of Allura looking at his dick, though in reality, he's concerned he'll somehow fuck it up and set his pubes on fire or something, so. Boxers. For now. And a big jug of water next to the bed, just in case.

“My arm?” Allura asks.

“So you can see what it's like. It's supposed to sting a bit, but it shouldn't  _ hurt. _ Like— it should be a good pain. Fun, sexy pain, not 'take me to a hospital' pain.”

“Lance, are you trying to reassure me or yourself?”

“Um. Both? I just, I've had it done to me but I've never done it to someone else and I— I just want to make it good. For you.”

By which Lance means that Hunk had done it at Lance’s insistence one late night in a fit of sleep-deprived experimentation. Lance had learned something about himself, Hunk had learned more than he probably ever wanted to know about Lance, and, like good bros do, they mutually decided to never speak of it again.

That didn't stop Lance from jacking off to the memory, though. A bunch of times. Dripping candle wax on himself just wasn't the same.

So he knows how it works, and he knows what  _ he _ likes, but that’s not the same as doing it to someone else. Not at all the same as doing it to Allura.

“I'm sure it will be good,” she says with a soft smile, “but we'll never find out if you don't start.”

She makes it so easy.

“Right,” he says. “Here goes.”

He takes a deep breath, adjusts the height of the candle — he'd experimented on himself earlier to find a distance from which it’s hot enough to sting but not burn — and carefully checks his aim, then tips the votive. Two small drops of hot wax land on the inside of Allura's forearm, solidifying from clear to off-white on contact. She flinches reflexively.

“Oh!”

“...Was that a good oh?” Lance asks after a moment.

Allura lifts her arm to peer curiously at the wax spots. The skin at the edges has reddened slightly from the heat. “Do it again and let's find out?”

Okay, so not  _ bad, _ at least. Lance relaxes a bit. He moves the candle up, aiming closer to the crook of her elbow, and lets three more drops fall.

“Ah! Mmm. That's…” She squirms a little.

“Too hot?”

“No, it's fine, it's… hmm. Interesting. Very warm. More?”

She  _ does _ like it. Lance grins and says, “Of course.”

But first he has to kiss her. That's imperative.

Holding the candle away, he folds over her and captures her mouth in a quick, sweet kiss which she surges up to return. Then, because he can't help himself, because those creamy-colored splashes and the flush underneath are too tempting, he swoops down and runs his mouth over the cooled wax. The skin there should be extra sensitive now.

As soon as his tongue makes contact, Allura gasps. Yep, he was right;  _ very _ sensitive. While she's still processing that part, he pulls back a little and, from that same careful height, sends another few drops of wax spattering across the hollow of her shoulder. She gives a shaky hum, twisting on the sheets.

“Oh, that is… wow,” she breathes as Lance sits the rest of the way up. “I think I'm beginning to understand the appeal.”

“Intense, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she says. She sounds pleased.

“You can close your eyes if you want. The surprise will make it better. Ready for more?”

“Mmm. Kiss me first?”

“I will kiss you literally any time you want,” Lance tells her seriously, and sets the candle on the nightstand where it won’t cause trouble so he can do just that.

He loves kissing Allura. She’s very good at it. Several minutes pass in bliss on her lips before he comes back to himself, with Allura’s every limb curled around him and his own arms holding her close, one hand cradling her face and the other wandering down her naked back to— no, wait, he doesn’t want to wander that far yet. Too distracting. He’s on a mission. Converting hot alien princesses to Earth kinks, that’s Lance’s calling in life. Okay, one hot alien princess in particular; the rest of them don’t really interest him anymore.

He strokes the safer territory of her side, instead, and eases her back into the pillows. Allura drags him with her, holding his lips captive with her own the whole way down, which, honestly, is a captivity he will never grow tired of. When she finally allows their mouths finally separate, Lance opens his eyes to find her giving him a hungry look.

“You can continue now,” she says.

“As you wish, Princess,” he replies sweetly, leaning in to kiss her neck, her clavicle, the rise of her breastbone. He catches her nipple gently between his teeth, applies just enough pressure to make her shift with interest, then releases it and pulls back.

She waits until he looks up at her face again, then deliberately closes her eyes. Just like he told her.

Lance sucks in a breath.

God, he is so fucking lucky. How did he manage this? How did he get  _ her? _ She’s so much more than he could ever deserve. Beautiful and smart and funny and  _ alluring, _ god, so sexy when she gives him that wicked-looking smile. Alluring Allura. Her parents named her well.

And she trusts him, somehow. With her heart, with her body. Lance gathers himself and picks up the candle, but pauses with another little frisson of nerves; he doesn’t want to hurt her, never wants to betray that trust.

“Tell me if it’s ever too much, okay?” The shoulder is one thing, but the rest is… something else.

“Of course, Lance.”

Her mouth curves in that other smile, the soft one just for him, and Lance feels a corresponding warmth in his chest as his worry falls away. Yeah, he adores her, and he trusts her, too, just as much as she trusts him — and anyway, she takes even hotter showers than he does. She’s going to  _ love _ this.

“You are so incredible, Allura,” he tells her, “and I’m going to make you feel so good.”

He sets the fingers of his free hand low on her hip, stroking slowly, and drips hot wax across her other shoulder in a denser pattern than the first.

The sound Allura makes begins life as a startled hiss and ends in a warm huff of noise as her shoulder jumps, then rolls back down. The wax cools, solidifying; the skin around each drop flushes in a faint, dark halo. Lance wants, with a sudden desperation, to see just how red her skin is underneath, wants to peel the pale wax free and admire the marks its heat left behind.

But he has patience. He keeps the candle upright, letting more wax melt and pool around the flame, and withdraws his hand from her hip. Then he waits.

And waits.

Finally, her eyebrows start to draw together and her lips part like she’s about to speak— and that’s when he tips the candle again. The drops bloom translucent into creamy white, five-six-seven, ten, eleven, in a messy trail high on her chest, and each one makes Allura’s breath hitch a little higher, makes her stomach muscles twitch in involuntary reaction. As soon as the last drop falls, Lance lifts the candle away and swoops in to press a kiss above her navel.

_ “Lance,” _ she moans. Oh yes, that’s the reaction he was looking for. He smiles against her skin, opens his mouth and drags the tip of his tongue from navel to ribs, then sits back.

“More?” he asks, watching her writhe on the bed. She nods, eyes squeezed shut.

A dribble of wax falls right between her breasts in a heated, messy splatter. Her breath hitches; her chest trembles.

Another drip lands just on the edge of her nipple. Allura makes a shocked, needy noise through her teeth and Lance chuckles warmly.

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs. “How about here?” Another drip, this time a cluster of dots all running together in the crease of her hip. She squirms, and Lance, concerned it might have been too much, presses his free hand over the wax, helping absorb some of the heat. “Okay?” he asks, and she nods quickly.

“Very, ah, very okay.”

Lance smiles, leaning down to kiss her parted lips. He knew she’d love this. “Let me make you feel good, Princess. Can I try something a little different?”

“Ye— yes, go ahead. Mmm.”

Still bent over her, he scratches his nails down her stomach, just hard enough to bring a little extra blood flow to the surface, to sensitize the nerves. She presses up into the touch with a pleased hum. Then, once she’s still again, he straightens and tips the candle over her diaphragm, laying down a layer of overlapping dots of wax.

Her muscles quiver and her breath stutters on a moan. Her hands twist in the sheets.

Yeah, he knows that feeling, knows intimately the way that the wax makes the scratches pulse with heat, knows how the extra level of sensation makes everything else go fuzzy around the edges as all concentration narrows in on the pleasure-sting of cooling wax on skin.

He lets her sit with the feeling for a bit, lets the wax solidify completely. Then he layers more on top.

“Lance,” she says, “oh, it’s— what are you doing differently?”

“Building it up a little. Still okay?”

“Mmm, yes. I can feel— not as hot? But I feel it deeper, I think.”

“That’s what I found, too,” Lance says, and adds another layer.

The edges are cooling faster, forming pale walls around the liquid center of the shallow pool. Her skin flushes darker around it — more heat, more blood flow. It looks so good, such a beautiful contrast. He adds a little more, lets it cool some as Allura breathes out faint sounds, adds more still, and then traces his free hand lightly across her low belly where she’s particularly reactive and carefully drips right at the rim of his pool until a hole melts in the side. Hot, clear wax pours out in a thin stream, following the curve of her bottom ribs.

She arches with a shout. “Ah— aahhh— oh god,  _ Lance—” _

_ “Gorgeous,” _ Lance whispers, reverent, watching the rivulet tumble over itself with her movements, cooling to white as it goes. “Allura, god, look at you. I'm gonna—” He continues in motion rather than words; with one hand, he pinches her wax-free nipple, while the other drips a line of melted wax across the top of her thigh. She's shifting too much for evenness. The wax splatters in a wide band as she flexes her knees.

“Again,” she gasps, “oh, please—”

As her thighs part further, Lance can see the wetness glistening in the slit between them. She is—  _ really _ loving this, fuck, she’s practically dripping. He draws two fingers through the mess, pressing barely inside the soft, rounded edges of her opening and collecting the slick as she gasps, then brings his wet fingertips up to rub tight circles at the apex. Her anatomy isn't human, but the swollen nubs along the top edge are each just as sensitive as a human clitoris, if not more so, and there's six of them. She makes a frantic, desperate sound, her hips shifting, trying to ride his hand.

He dribbles more wax across her other thigh.

She keens and bucks into his touch, and he hurriedly lifts the candle out of her way as she moves. The messy white dots and drips stand out on her skin.

“Shh,” he soothes, slowing the motion of his fingers between her legs, “you’re doing amazing. Fuck, that’s incredible. You want more?”

_ “Yesss,” _ she hisses, breathy.

Lance gives her more. God, anything she asks for is hers. Another arc of melted wax paints her thigh, right over the first, thicker, hotter, dripping in a couple places to make trails while she whines through her teeth and her muscles jump in reaction. He adds another line going up toward her hip bone, then speckles her ribs and rubs more firmly at her slit.

Every inch of her is flushed now, and she can’t seem to stop moving. Her shoulders work against the sheets, her hands rove across the bed and up her own sides, her knees flex and straighten. She’s panting for breath, eyes still closed as she circles her hips on his fingers, and Lance has never seen anything more gorgeous in his life. Her pleasure is  _ radiant. _

He bends down and draws her nipple into his mouth. With a growl, she grabs him by the hair, pulling him closer — she’s so sensitive here, it blows him away every time — and he sucks sharply on the tightening bud, then catches it between his teeth and hums a questioning noise at her.

“Lance,” she gasps, “Lance, Lance, Lance.”

God, he loves the way she says his name all breathless like that. His teeth tug her nipple, making her moan, loud, louder, and he flicks his tongue over the tip, then sucks until the whole thing is swollen and sensitive. She shudders, her fingers still tight in his hair. Her thighs close around his forearm to trap his hand in place between her legs.

When he releases her nipple to sit up, she makes a disappointed sound but lets him go. She’ll like this next part even better, though, he knows, so he doesn't feel too bad about it.

Her nipple is standing up in a hard point, flushed and swollen and wet with his spit.

He tips the candle.

Clear, molten wax falls right on the peak in thick drops; Allura howls, her whole body thrashing.

“Fuck,” Lance says, all the breath knocked out of him at the sight. “Feels amazing, doesn't it? Let me…” He drizzles more wax over her nipple, staring as the sloppy drops cool to white, as the heat bleeds into Allura's skin and makes her moan. Her hips buck again; he glides the tip of one finger down from the sensitive nubs he’s been stroking and slips it inside her.

“Hnngh, yesss,” she groans, her back curving.

The alien texture of her slit is familiar to Lance by now but still just as exciting as the first time, all tiny bumps and ridges under his finger, slick and hot. He strokes around the inside edges, teasing, and adds more wax to her nipple until a thin rivulet flows down the slope of her breast and her every breath comes with a whine.

“How's that, Princess?”

“Lance,” she replies, “ah, I'm— please, I'm so— more, I’m so close—”

“Yeah?” Lance asks, breathy. “Let me get you there, sweetheart.”

Allura gets so strung out from playing with her nipples that he could probably get her off with just that. A good project for later; right now, he has a different idea.

With the candle held away, Lance presses a kiss to the unmarked side of her breast and nudges his finger a little deeper inside her. Then he trails his mouth down her chest, kissing across the spattered wax on her ribs, biting and licking her stomach, scooting himself down the bed until he’s in the perfect position: one arm holding the candle out to the side, the other poised between her restless thighs, his body bent in half to mouth at her skin.

He sucks low on her stomach, gets a mouthful and worries the flesh with his teeth as she moans and shifts. This is a good spot, too; he can get her so worked up that she loses her voice if he just licks here long enough. But again, not quite what he’s going for.

_ “Lance.” _

He steadies the candle.

For deeper penetration, Allura only likes thin things, but near the entrance she always wants it wide — Lance has a feeling there’s knotting involved in Altean sex, and he’s a little weirded out by how  _ very into that _ he is. He keeps his eyes glued to the electric sight of her all stretched out and wanting and painted with white, her legs tensing while his finger teases at her entrance, and he takes a breath. He wants this to be  _ good. _

Then, all at once, he stuffs four fingers inside her up to the second knuckle, circles his thumb tightly over the nubs above, and drizzles a hot line of wax low on her stomach from one hip bone to the other.

She falls apart in his hands. She arches, her spine curling; her slit pulses around his fingers; her mouth works around a thin, high whine as she comes.

Lance pets her through it, stroking gently inside her as the muscles squeeze, laying soft kisses along her hip while her chest heaves. Gradually, she relaxes. Lance blows out the candle and sets it on the nightstand, then use his newly-free hand to massage her leg while she hums her satisfaction.

“You approve, I take it?” he asks, and there's an unavoidable smugness in his tone, but hey, he just gave her what looked like a mind-blowing orgasm; he's entitled to a little smugness. She nods loosely, wearing the sort of smile that says she's still in the middle of an endorphin rush and is not entirely present. “We humans have some pretty awesome ideas sometimes.”

“I am,” she says slowly. “A fan. Of wax.”

“Knew you would be.” No, he’d  _ hoped, _ but same difference, right? “Lance’s kinks are the best kinks.”

He kisses her hip again — because it's such a tempting spot, really, how could he be expected to resist? — and touches one of the cooled wax drips on her ribs, using a fingernail to tug at the edge. The flush from the heat is probably gone by now, but he kind of wants to check anyway. And the nerves under there will probably be all tender and sensitized for a while yet.

Allura's sudden, intense gaze is a physical sensation; he looks up to see her watching him with eyes gone dark, and oh, god, not until this very second did he realize just how achingly, painfully turned on he is.

“Allow me a moment to catch my breath,” she says, smiling that wicked-looking smile again, the one that utterly fells him, “and then I’m doing that to  _ you.” _

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then Allura introduces him to Altean sex toys, which include things like a magnetic slime that can be controlled and molded via brainwave-reading headset, and they live kinkily ever after.


End file.
